


Maid-sama Saeran

by PhoenixSavant



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Comedy, No Smut, Other, Saeran dresses as a maid, Saeyoung is in love, Vanderwood is probably wanting a drink, he's not happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 23:24:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15181616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixSavant/pseuds/PhoenixSavant
Summary: When Saeyoung gets hurt, Saeran has to ... er... man? up?





	Maid-sama Saeran

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moonfireflight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonfireflight/gifts).



                Vanderwood watched as the twins sparred together.  Saeran had been learning quickly, but still had yet to best Saeyoung.  It was impressive though, he had improved dramatically over the past two months.  His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he stepped out of the room to take the call. 

                “Yeah, we’ll be there,” he promised, ending the call.  Just then, he heard a shout and a pain-filled cry from the dojo.  He ran through the doorway to see Saeyoung gasping on the mat and Saeran standing over him, panting but looking proud.

                “Oh!  Damn!  Ow!” Saeyoung exclaimed.

                “Get… over it… baby,” Saeran said, holding his hand out to his brother.  “Up… do it… again.”

                “I can’t,” Saeyoung whimpered.  “My ankle, oh god.”  He clutched his thigh and rolled to his back, dangling the ankle in question in the air.

                As he approached, Vanderwood could see something was terribly wrong.  Saeyoung’s foot just sort of dangled in the air.  There was no tension in it and it canted to the outside. 

                “What the fuck did you do?” Vanderwood growled, kneeling next to Saeyoung.

                Saeran’s expression slid from victory to concern.  “I used that inside sweep you showed me, that’s all.  What’s wrong?”

                Saeyoung’s eyes were clenched shut, and his face screwed up tightly in pain.  “Is it broken?  I heard something when I fell.”

                Vanderwood could not tell for sure if it was a break or not.  It could be, given the speed with which it was swelling and turning purple.  It could just be a sprain.  He prodded gently, ignoring Saeyoung’s cries as he inspected the injury.  Ankles were the worst injuries.  They hurt the worst, and they took the longest to heal.

                “Tell me everything,” he said to Saeyoung.

                Saeyoung recounted the two attempts Saeran had made to get close enough to throw him, and then the surprise of Saeran’s foot pushing his own into the air.  When Saeyoung tried to balance on his other leg, Saeran rushed him, and Saeyoung’s ankle rolled under the force of the impact, twisting until Saeyoung had been standing on top of his foot before falling.

                “Well, shit.”  Vanderwood sat back on his thighs.  He looked up at Saeran, who had been watching closely as Vanderwood inspected Saeyoung’s ankle.  “Congratulations, you won.  Unfortunately, your brother wasn’t named Grace.”  He groaned.  “Come on, time to go to the hospital.  We need an x-ray.” 

                The fact that Saeyoung had no smart-ass response worried Vanderwood more than the now softball-sized swelling around the young man’s ankle.

                The emergency room was thankfully bare this afternoon, and the trio was in a room waiting for the x-rays in no time. 

                “We have a problem,” Vanderwood announced as the nurse left, having given Saeyoung some medication to ease the pain and an ice pack for the swelling.  “That call I had to take was about the mission we’ve been waiting for the green light on.  We’re supposed to go tonight.”

                “Shit,” Saeyoung muttered.  “I don’t think I can, not like this.”

                “I know, that’s why it’s a problem,” Vanderwood stated.  Life wasn’t so bad since they’d gotten away from the agency, but they were still taking on freelance work.  No one would show up to kill them if a job didn’t get done, but it made them look bad.  They’d also have to return the money, and it was five months since the last job already. 

                “Will it be bad that you can’t?” Saeran asked.  He’d apologized repeatedly.  He didn’t intend to harm Saeyoung, he just wanted to win one match.  Just one.

                “It won’t be great,” Saeyoung replied.  “Don’t worry though, there’s no danger.  It’s just, we needed this job.” 

                Saeran frowned.  He felt guilty, responsible.  It was because he was pushing so hard that Saeyoung was hurt.  They wouldn’t even know how badly hurt until the x-ray results came in.

                “Don’t stress about it, Saeran,” Saeyoung tried to smile.  “I’m fine.  Even if it’s broken, it’ll heal.  You’re looking at me like you tried to kill me.” 

                Saeran blanched.  He remembered when he had tried.  No, this wasn’t him trying to do anything but win a stupid sparring match, practice.  He was angry with himself about it, too.

                When the doctor returned, the good news was that Saeyoung’s ankle wasn’t broken.  The bad news was that he’d managed to tear the tendons to hell and back.  He was given a walking cast, crutches, and orders not to put his foot down for a full ten days.

                The car was silent on the drive home.  Vanderwood helped to get the twins inside and went back out to get the prescription for the pain medication filled.

                Saeran’s guilt had not abated.  He made sure Saeyoung had what he needed to rest and then sat in a chair near the couch.  He looked at the elevated foot and chewed the corner of his mouth.  He wondered if he should call MC.  She hadn’t been home to see her family in months though, and she needed the rest.  If she knew, she’d rush home and worry until Saeyoung was healed.  No, let her enjoy her vacation.

                “What was the mission?” he asked, an idea half-forming in his thoughts. 

                “Huh?”

                “The mission you were supposed to do, what was it?”

                “Ah, we were just going to retrieve some material that was being used for blackmail.  Easy in, easy out, and the client gets to stop living in fear of her ex.”

                Saeran snorted.  He knew Vanderwood and his brother were trying to make up for all they’d done while working for the agency.  He didn’t know they were playing the rescuing heroes. 

                “Is it something I could do?” Saeran asked.

                “Is what?”

                “Damn, that morphine makes you stupid.  The mission, could I do it?”

                Saeyoung sat up on his elbow, his eyes wide for a moment.  Then the excitement bled out, and he flopped back on the cushions.  “It requires dressing to go undercover.  I don’t think you’d be able to pull it off.” 

                “Why not? Saeyoung asked as the door to the bunker opened.

                “Why not what?” Vanderwood asked, tossing the prescription to Saeyoung.

                “I was asking if I could do the mission for him since he can’t.  It _is_ kind of my fault you guys are in this situation.”

                Vanderwood looked at Saeyoung.  “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

                Saeyoung didn’t look at Vanderwood, he just flopped his arm over his eyes.  “I told him it has to be done under cover and I don’t think he could do it.”

                Vanderwood nodded and Saeran felt himself getting irritated.  “Why couldn’t I do it?  If it’s just going in, grabbing something, and walking out, why not?”  He was as good as his brother at everything he’d tried, and better at some things!

                “You sure you want to do it?” Vanderwood asked.  “If you say you do, I won’t stop you, but you can’t back out on me.  You have to do it.” 

                “If you’re going along, you can just tell me what to do.  I can do it.  I look just like him, for Christ sake.”

                Saeyoung giggled.

                Vanderwood shook his head.  “Alright then, if you’re that determined.”  He crossed the living room, heading toward Saeyoung’s room.  “Brief him, I’ll get the clothes.”

                Saeyoung smiled brightly.  “You don’t know how much this means to me, little brother!”

                “Whatever,” Saeran muttered.  “What’s the story?”

                “Alright, the client used to work at one of those maid café places.  She left because she was dating a manager there, but they broke up.  She’s moved on, and it wouldn’t look good for her new employer to know about the old job.  The ex has the photos he took of her while she was working there.  He’s threatening to send them to her boss, and put them online.”

                “So you’re going after the pictures?”

                “Right, I was anyway.  The client talked this jerk into bringing the photos to the café tonight.  She’s promised to talk to him about coming back to work there, provided he gives them to her.  She knows his locker combination, so like I said, it’s in, get the goods, get out.” 

                “Sounds simple enough,” Saeran nodded thoughtfully.  “You’re sure the pictures will be there and that he doesn’t have other copies?”

                “I already made sure he doesn’t.  Every time he tries to scan them in, they just go missing.  It’s the strangest thing…” Saeyoung smirked.

                “Hey!  Saeran!” Vanderwood called.  “You wear the same size as Saeyoung now, right?”

                Saeran looked at his slightly smaller frame.  He’d packed on weight and muscle, but he wasn’t sure about clothing sizes.

                “It’ll work on him,” Saeyoung called back.  “Worst case, we just pad the bust a little more!”

                “Bust?” Saeran asked, suddenly feeling hesitant.

                “Oh, didn’t I tell you?  You’ll be playing the part of a maid tonight!”  Saeyoung smiled, looking like the cat who had just cornered the canary.

                Saeran’s eyes went wide.  “Maid?  But those are all played by…”  His words failed as Vanderwood returned carrying a hanger with a maid costume, a long wig, and a set of ladies underthings.

                Saeyoung’s grin shifted from cat with cornered canary to cat who swallowed canary, and he began to cackle.

                “Do you know how to wear these?” Vanderwood asked, tossing the lingerie at Saeran.

                Saeran managed not to drop anything.  “You’re kidding, right?  You want me to dress up like a … a woman!?” 

                “You said you were willing to handle the mission,” Vanderwood pointed out.  “I already called the client.  We are go, and you’re up.”  There was no consolation in his voice.

                “It’s alright, little brother, I can help you!  The stockings are super nice, I picked them out especially for this mission.  The lace at the thigh won’t roll up on you, either!” 

                Saeran looked at the long stockings in his hand.  He hadn’t noticed the lace before.  His face paled.  “You can’t be serious.  Can’t I just be a busboy or something?” 

                “Sorry, we’ve already arranged everything,” Saeyoung replied.  “It has to be a maid.”

                Saeran was all too aware that his brother did not look sorry, he looked excited.  With a sigh, Saeran asked, “So I just pull these on?”  He lifted the stockings with his fingertips, worried about damaging them.

                “Not until after you shave!”

                “Wait! What!?” Saeran gasped.  “Shave… what?”

                “At least your legs and Vanderwood can wax your chest for you!”

                “Oh hell no!  You are not touching my chest!  There’s no hair on it anyway!”

                “You still need to shave your legs, and your armpits,” Vanderwood stated, laying the costume carefully over the back of the couch.  “Come on, I’ll show you what to do.”

                Saeran glared at Saeyoung, but Saeyoung only smiled cheerfully.

                “Thank you so much for helping us out,” Saeyoung beamed at Saeran. 

                “I hate you,” Saeran muttered, following Vanderwood back to the bathroom.

                Vanderwood showed Saeran how to warm and soak his legs before shaving, and how to avoid cutting himself with the razor.  The angles were odd, but with Vanderwood’s help, Saeran’s legs were soon free of hair.  Once done, Vanderwood had him put on some sort of lotion that at least helped with the burning feeling. 

Saeran couldn’t get over how his legs felt without hair on them.  On the one hand, he understood why girls apparently liked the way their legs felt after shaving.  On the other hand, he didn’t think _he_ should be feeling that sensation.

They returned to the living room.  Saeyoung demonstrated how to bunch up the thigh highs and pull them over the foot to avoid putting a hole in them.  Saeran gave him a sour look as he pulled them up.  They _were_ soft, but this was just not okay with him.  He had no interest at all in women’s clothing!

“So, the dress, huh?” Saeran asked.

“Not yet!” Saeyoung chirped.  “First we need to do your nails!”

Saeran looked doubtfully at his hands.  He’d been doing better about biting his nails, but they still didn’t look great.  “I don’t know that there’s anything you can do to fix them,” he said, holding up a hand.

“Never fear!” Saeyoung exclaimed.  “Vanderwood, in my closet there’s a blue box.  Would you bring it out here?” 

When Vanderwood returned, Saeyoung hummed softly as he opened the box, keeping the lid just closed enough that Saeran couldn’t look inside. 

Saeran knew his brother was up to something, but when the bottle of mint-green nail polish appeared, Saeran found his limit in this whole affair.

“Oh, no!  You are _not_ painting my nails!”

“Well of course not!  Your nails are a wreck!  I’m painting the fake nails we’re putting on over your nails.  This color is perfect!  It’ll match your eyes, and trust me, men notice eyes!”  Saeyoung pulled out a long, white box.  “We don’t have time to do acrylics, so we’ll have to make do with the press on nails.  These stick pretty well.  They’ll probably last a few days.” 

“Days!?  Saeyoung, I am NOT wearing those!”

“Yes, you are,” Vanderwood chimed in.  “You’re the reason he’s hurt, now stop bitching and sit down.”

“This is so great!” Saeyoung squealed.  “I get to paint my brother’s nails!” 

“Shut up before I make sure your foot is broken,” Saeran growled.

“Oh, now, that’s no way to talk to me when I’m just trying to make sure you’re beautiful!”

Saeran scowled as the nails were applied.  He grumbled as they were painted.  Thankfully, Saeyoung used some sort of fast-drying polish, but now his hands felt strange, and he couldn’t hold anything.  This was _not_ what he expected when he offered to stand in tonight!

Next came the dress.  That part was, thankfully, less odd.  Saeran still hated the petticoats and the way the fabric just kept moving every time he took a step.

“Wig before or after?” Vanderwood asked Saeyoung.

“After, of course!  We don’t want any makeup in the wig,” Saeyoung answered.

“Oh god, makeup?”

“Well, yes,” Saeyoung responded.  “You kind of look like a guy in a dress right now.  We have to do makeup, the bra, and the wig still.  Then,” he squealed in delight again, “My little brother will be a beautiful maiden!”

Saeran looked at Vanderwood.  Tapping two of the fingernails together experimentally he asked, “Can these go through skin?”

Vanderwood snorted.  “I understand the sentiment, but no.  Get your makeup done.” 

Saeran flopped onto the cushion in front of Saeyoung with a disgusted grunt.

“Oh, no no, you can’t flop around like that.  You have to sit gracefully!” Saeyoung rebuked.

Saeran bit his tongue and let his brother apply what felt like pounds of goop to his face.  He couldn’t believe some women did this every day.  It was gross and made his nose itch.

“Stand up,” Vanderwood ordered after the makeup was applied.  He eyed Saeran’s chest critically.

Saeran had a moment of confusion when he felt like Vanderwood shouldn’t be looking at his chest like that.  He squeaked in horror when Vanderwood reached up and squeezed… wait, it’s not a real boob, Saeran reminded himself.

“Yeah, I’m going to have to fill you out a little.  Don’t worry, it won’t show.”  Vanderwood left the room.

“What does he mean ‘fill me out’?” Saeran asked, wondering if he wanted to know.

“He means your bust isn’t sitting right.  You need more top up top!  Vandy is great at that sort of thing.  He knows just how to make sure you have a rack to be proud of!”  Saeyoung grinned his appreciation of his partner at Saeran.

“I don’t want a rack, to be proud of, or otherwise,” Saeran growled.  “You set me up.  You knew what this mission was and you knew what I’d have to do.  Don’t think I’m going to let you get out of paying for this.” 

Saeyoung looked up sadly.  “But, I thought you wanted to help, to make up for hurting me?”

“Help, not … not this!”

“Here,” Vanderwood said, returning.  “This will fix it.”  He reached into the top of the dress and shoved something into the heavily padded bra.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Saeran gasped, pulling away and covering his chest with his arms.

“Oooh!  He’s discovering his ladylike modesty!” Saeyoung crooned.  “It’s so wonderful!”

“Shut up, Seven,” Vanderwood snapped.  “We’re barely getting to pull this thing off anyway thanks to you being such a clutz.”

Saeran stood still, out of sheer gratitude that Saeyoung had been silenced for a moment, as Vanderwood felt him up like a cut of meat at the market.

Finally satisfied with the rest of Saeran’s appearance, Vanderwood slicked his hair back with gel and put the wig on him.  A little spirit glue ensured that it wouldn’t fall off.  Then the lace choker and bands were tied into place.

Vanderwood gave Saeran a critical sweep with his eyes before saying, “Turn around, see what Saeyoung thinks about it.” 

Saeran did at he was bid, only to face his brother looking like he was about to swoon.

“I can’t believe it,” Saeyoung sniffed dramatically.  “My baby brother, all grown up and looking like a princess’s maid, if not a princess himself!  He’s so beautiful!”

“When I get back,” Saeran promised, “I will kill you.”

“Bet I’m faster on crutches than you are on heels!” Saeyoung laughed.

“Heels?”  Saeran gave Vanderwood a withering look.

“No, not heels.  I don’t need you both laying around with messed up ankles.  You can wear these instead.  Just be careful.  They’re proper patent leather.  They will show the reflection of what’s up your skirt,” Vanderwood explained, holding out a pair of mary janes.

“Let them look,” Saeran muttered.  “Serves them right.” 

 

               


End file.
